


Heartstrings

by writersbane



Series: Seasons Change, but So Do We [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathroom Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Love Triangles, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, POV Multiple, Public Sex, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, he has needs okay, making music while trying not to fall for each other, mostly takes place in the city, retail worker woes, sorry I made Sam really horny, still a himbo tho, will update smut tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writersbane/pseuds/writersbane
Summary: After getting dumped by his high school sweetheart, Sam decides to take a leap of faith and audition for a popular underground band in the city. When he goes to scope them out, he runs into a mysterious girl with pink hair and a bit of an attitude. The two of them part ways after a quick hook up, never intending to see each other again. That is until he finds out she's not only the lead singer of the band, but also friends with his best friend's girlfriend.
Relationships: Penny/Sam (Stardew Valley), Sam/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Sam/Player (Stardew Valley)
Series: Seasons Change, but So Do We [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704892
Comments: 70
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1*

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! The idea for this fic has been rolling around in my head for awhile and I finally worked up the nerve to start writing it. 
> 
> **Please note this is a spin-off that plays with some of the dynamics set up in the first installment. Technically takes place after Part 1, but doesn't include any major spoilers from the main fic.

Prelude

Harper’s blood is still buzzing with adrenaline when she heads backstage. She already misses the roar of excitement from the crowd, misses the sound of them cheering for her even if her stage name still sounds foreign to her ears. She’s the definition of exhilarated, and wants nothing more than to ride this euphoric rush for as long as she possibly can. For a moment, she considers running back out there and playing one last song, but the rest of the band looks exhausted, checked out and eager to leave.

Gabe is off in the corner fiddling with his phone, the bluish glow of the screen illuminates his face in the dark like a child holding a flashlight under their chin. Paige is busy chugging water from her stainless steel water bottle, her hickory drumsticks look dangerously close to falling out of the back pocket of her jeans. She stops when she spots Harper staring at her, and gives her a single nod before pulling off the black masquerade mask that’s hanging around her neck. Harper sighs as she reaches up to remove her own mask. She instinctively runs her fingers over the gold detailed edges before tucking it into her purse, then carefully pulls off her black wig, shaking out her pastel pink locks with her free hand. She catches Jesse watching her out of the corner of her eye, but ignores him and decides to bother Gabe instead. 

Gabe looks up at her with a raised brow when she breaches his line of sight. “What’s up?”

Harper shrugs. “Oh, just basking in the glory of our performance.”

“It was a good show.” He shoots her a smile, then looks back down at his phone and starts vigorously typing. “The crowd loved you, as usual. The mysterious Mayari with the voice of an angel.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Harper playfully swats at his arm. He laughs. 

“Are you going to that party with Jesse? Or do you need a ride back to your place?”

She glances over at Jesse who’s thankfully preoccupied with talking to one of the sound guys. “I think I’m gonna to stay here and hang out for a bit.” 

“Just be careful,” Gabe warns without looking up from his phone. “Jesse heard something about a guy out there asking questions about the band.”

Harper’s ears perk with interest. “Oh shit, one of those crazy bloggers?”

“Not sure.” He peers up from his phone and gives her a discouraging look. “Just don’t do anything stupid.” 

Harper smiles, then rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

  
  


There’d been a huge surge in interest in the band after their latest music video dropped. Jesse had decided to forego the masks and use different lighting techniques to hide their faces, which initially worried Harper. In the end, the final product had been well received. Almost too well. Music bloggers had taken various screenshots of their shadowed profiles to try and piece together their identities. Luckily, they didn’t have enough clues. But Jesse had provoked them, and there were now dozens of crazed fanatics sharing their speculations online. 

Harper was guilty of stalking said blogs out of mere curiosity, and the guy she’s watching now doesn’t look like the usual fanatic blogger trying to reveal their secrets. She assumes she must have the wrong guy, but he fits Jesse’s description: tall, tousled blond hair, bright red T-shirt. He’s attractive, no doubt. Even if he’s not exactly her type. There’s something intriguing about him that Harper can’t exactly place. Maybe it’s the genuine excitement in his eyes as he cranes his neck over the crowd to watch the next band set up. It reminds her of the pure enthusiasm she used to have before selling her soul to The Heads of Cerberus.

“So no one knows their real identities?” She overhears him ask the bartender. 

The bartender rolls his eyes as he hands another patron their beer. “Well I’m sure _they_ know.” 

Red Shirt slightly frowns, slouching his shoulders in defeat. Harper knows she should stay the fuck away from him, she can practically hear Gabe lecturing her in her head. But as her eyes idly trace down the muscles of his neck and shoulders, she catches herself wondering what he smells like. She takes a long sip from the beer in her hand before finally gathering the nerve to approach him.

“I’ve heard the lead singer’s a real bitch,” she says as she nudges her way into the empty space next to him. 

He turns in her direction with both brows raised. “For real?” 

Harper catches his green eyes, and takes another sip of beer. “Yeah, so I’d drop whatever piece you’re trying to write about them. Mayari is vicious. She’d eat you alive.”

“Piece?” He cocks his head in confusion. “I’m not writing a piece. I’m actually… Uh, you know what? Nevermind.” He pauses for a moment before extending a hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.” 

Harper looks down at the hand in front of her, then back up to his face and simply smiles. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

He stares at her until it finally clicks that she’s not going to shake his hand. His smile slightly falls as he leans against the bar so they’re level, but there’s still a hint of interest in his eyes. Like he’s just been told a dare. “You know, this is usually the part where you tell me your name.” 

“Yeah.” Harper casually nods. “I suppose it is.” 

“Why do I have a feeling that you’re not gonna tell me?” 

Her smile widens. “I would, but I don't have one.” 

He laughs at that. “You don’t have a name?” 

“Not tonight.” Harper looks him over again as she finishes off her beer, thinking. She sets the empty bottle down and decides she’s feeling a bit audacious. She figures she has to do something with this energy rattling inside of her. “So, you live in the neighborhood?”

Sam shakes his head. “I’m from out of town.”

“Fun. Where are you staying?”

“With a friend.” It takes him a second too long to respond, and it makes Harper wonder if he’s lying. Not that it really matters, though. She’s not exactly being the best example of honest either. 

“Hmm, what a shame,” she says with a dramatic sigh. 

Sam leans in closer, narrowing his eyes. 

“I have this rule,” she continues. “I don’t bring guys I’ve just met back to my place.” 

“And why’s that?”

“I don’t want them finding their way back uninvited.” 

“Well, I’m known for having a terrible sense of direction.”

Harper bites back a smile and considers what she’s about to say. Her heart is a nuisance as it pounds beneath her ribs, her hands feel more clammy than usual. 

“Tempting,” she finally says. “But I have a better idea. You ever fuck in the bathroom of a bar before?”

  
  


There’s a slight shakiness in her hand as Harper turns the lock on the door. She pauses for a moment, testing the handle twice before finally turning around. Sam stares at her from the middle of the room, and even in the dim light, Harper can see the nervousness in his eyes.

“Having second thoughts?” she asks, taking a step closer. 

Sam lets out a small laugh. “I’ve just never, uh, done something like this. What if we get caught?”

Harper looks at his mouth, watches as his tongue flicks over his bottom lip, and grins. “Better make it quick then.” 

She takes another step closer and fists the front of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss. His mouth is soft and careful against hers. Patient in an almost tender way, but also slightly hesitant. Embarrassment heats the back of her neck as she starts to pull away, convinced she's made an awful mistake, but Sam’s demeanor flips like a light switch. He cups her face, fingers threading through her hair, and deepens the kiss. The momentum forces Harper backward until she stumbles into the wall. She gasps, but Sam doesn’t stop. His lips are insistent now, greedy even. A hand moves down her chest, then her waist. He hastily unbuttons her jeans and slides his hand past her underwear. Harper lets out a breathy sigh when he finally brushes over her skin, rubbing in slow, methodical circles. But they don’t have the time for teasing, especially if he’s so worried about getting caught. 

Harper angles her hips to guide his hand lower, but Sam doesn’t seem to take the hint. Or if he does, he’s not cooperating. She turns her head away for a moment and whispers, “Lower.”

He moves his lips to her jaw, smiling against her skin as he obeys. “Here?”

Harper moans when he finally slips a finger inside her, then graciously adds another, curling them at just the right angle. It feels heavenly. So good in fact, that Harper considers asking how he got so good with his hands. She wonders if he’s some sort of gifted guitarist or pianist, but she can’t form the proper words even if she wanted to. 

Sam picks up the pace, his thumb brushing over her clit as he pumps his fingers inside her. Harper claws at the wall, searching for something to hold onto as heat quickly pools between her legs. 

“Holy fucking shit,” she mutters as a spasm ripples down her body. Her legs feel weak, her knees start to buckle. But Sam holds her waist steady with his other hand, watching almost admiringly as she clenches around his fingers. 

Harper wastes no time and reaches for the fasten of his jeans. Precum smears across the side of her hand as she frees his cock. She looks down at her palm intently for a moment, it glistens in the low light. Then with a devilish grin, she brings her hand up and makes a show of licking it off. Sam’s eyes go wide as he watches her, throat bobbing as he swallows. 

Harper tugs on the hem of his shirt and leads him from their spot against the wall over to the sink. She shimmies out of her jeans and gracefully hoists herself up, barely balancing on the sink’s edge, then crooks a finger, gesturing for him to come closer. Sam finds her mouth again, but Harper quickly pulls away and reaches between them. With a satisfied smile, she watches his green eyes flutter shut as she rubs the head of his cock through her folds. Then she leans forward, pulling down on the neckline of his shirt and whispers, “Fuck me.” 

They both moan when he slides inside her. His hands grip tightly at her hips as he slowly moves in and out. It’s both marvelous and maddening at the same time. Harper bends her knee, lifting her leg to invite him deeper. Sam obliges and grabs the back of her thigh to spread her wider.

“ _Yes_.” Harper closes her eyes and moans, dropping her head back against the mirror as she clutches the rim of the porcelain sink. Tension builds between her hips as he starts to thrust faster, harder. She reaches down to rub her clit, but Sam bats her hand away and replaces it with his own. 

She gasps when she comes, practically laughs at the sensation thrumming under her skin because she’s not sure if it’s ever felt this good before. Sam groans as he watches her shudder against him. He’s not far behind, Harper can sense it in the way his movements start to stutter. Harper grabs him by the back of the neck and kisses him again, nips at his bottom lip. And that does it. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam moans into her mouth, pressing his hips flush against her. Harper hums in delight as she feels his cock pulse inside her. 

Harper carefully slides off the sink once he pulls out of her. She ignores the cum starting to drip down the inside of her thigh and swiftly pulls on her underwear and jeans. Sam has his hands braced against the bathroom sink, leaning forward as he tries to catch his breath. Bits of his blond hair are slick with sweat and stick to his forehead. Harper steps around him to get a peek of herself in the mirror.

“Well that was fun,” she says as she gathers her hair up into a bun. 

“Yeah,” Sam clears his throat before pulling his pants up. He looks almost dazed as he watches her fiddle with her hair. “So I guess I’ll, uh, see you around?”

Harper meets his pretty green eyes in the mirror and grins. “If you’re lucky, you’ll never see me again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

The worst part about working the box is the cold, but the trade-off is the solitude. It gives Sam time to think and secretly listen to music while he neatly faces the yogurts at the back of JojaMart, like the good grocery stocking robot he's been programmed to be. And even though he has to stop every so often to flex some sensation back in his fingers, at least he’s not in the freezer. 

Sam bobs his head in tune to the music playing in his ear as he cuts open yet another box of yogurts. He’s listening to one of the singles off of The Heads of Cerberus's latest album, _A City Burning Bright_. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been listening to them on repeat for days. And even though their sound is a bit too heavy for his tastes, he can understand why there’s so many people obsessed with them—the lead singer sounds divine. Her voice is the perfect balance between a smooth breeze and a low rumble of thunder. He found some bloggers compare her to an angel, but Sam thinks a siren would be more accurate because he honestly wouldn’t mind being lured to his death if she was the one singing to him. The thought gives him chills. Or maybe it's the fact that he's standing in front of an open refrigerator. Either way, he can't deny that he's been fantasizing about what Mayari might look like under that mask. And based on the few pictures he's seen online, he imagines she must be beautiful. But what his pink-haired friend from the bar said a few nights ago is still lingering in his mind. 

_Mayari is vicious. She'd eat you alive._

Sam finds that hard to believe even though he barely knows anything about the band. He’s a little embarrassed at the number of hours he’s wasted researching them online, but even then, his efforts have barely scratched the surface. The intricacies revolving their history and methodology are quite impressive, maybe even a little overwhelming. Each of the four members have their own alias, and they all hide their faces with these masquerade inspired masks. They don’t do any in person interviews, or meet and greets. No one has the slightest clue what their real names are, or their ages. Various online trolls constantly accuse them of being some sort of conspiracy, calling the whole operation an entitled game of hide and seek while criticizing the band for baiting their fans with the smallest inkling of information. Sam doesn’t think it’s that serious. He mostly finds it all confusing, but also pretty cool. Though, he’s not sure if he’s badass enough to pull off an alias or a mask. He figures he’ll worry about it later. After all, he has to make it through the whole audition process first. 

Lila, Sebastian’s girlfriend, had been the one to encourage him to submit a preliminary sound clip. When he asked her how she heard about the auditions, she claimed she knew a person that knew a person, which Sam knew was complete bullshit because she and Sebastian were the worst liars on the face of the planet. But he didn’t want to pester her about it, he was honestly appreciative that she even thought to consider him. 

The next song starts to play and Sam can’t help but tap his foot to the beat. He thinks this one might be his favorite, but it’s hard to choose because they’re all starting to grow on him. He sets down the yogurt in his hand and grabs the broom that’s resting against the wall, turning it into a makeshift guitar. He’s enthusiastically following along to the guitar breakdown when someone walks through the backroom door. Shane stops in the doorway and grimaces when he notices him. Sam abruptly stops and quickly pulls his headphones out of his ears before setting the broom back in it’s rightful place. 

“What’s up?” he casually asks, a bit out of breath. 

“Morris is looking for you,” Shane says as he reaches up to scratch at his blue Joja cap. “Wants to talk to you in his office or something.” 

Sam nods. “Cool. Thanks.” 

They both continue to stare at each other without saying anything, the only thing saving them from utter silence is the low hum of the refrigerator. Shane curiously peers about the backroom. He looks like he wants to say something, but turns away and disappears back onto the sales floor. Sam sighs, his neck is hot with embarrassment. But instead of following after Shane, he slips his headphones back in his ears. It’s a crime to let a song go unfinished. 

  
  


The manager’s office in JojaMart is the dullest room Sam’s ever laid eyes on. Everything is just so beige—the walls, the filing cabinets, the desk in the center of the room. The carpet is a deep charcoal color with a trippy zigzag pattern that Sam assumes is to help hide the grime. There’s a black and gold plaque on the back wall congratulating Morris, the store manager, for an outstanding first quarter. And next to it hangs a blue banner with the phrase ‘Life’s better with Joja’ written on it. The sight of it makes something twist in Sam’s stomach. 

Morris is sitting at his desk, smiling with his hands steepled together like a villain in a low budget action movie. He gestures for Sam to take a seat in the empty chair in front of him. Sam reluctantly complies, resting his elbows on the narrow armrests. 

“How are you feeling today, Sam?”

“Uh,” Sam starts to say, but he’s not really sure how to answer. 

_I feel like an ant that’s trying to drag a very large crumb across a busy highway_ , he wants to say. But he knows that’s not an acceptable answer for Morris. 

“Fine, I guess,” he says instead. 

“At Joja, we take the well-being of our employees seriously,” Morris says as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And I can’t help but notice that you’ve seemed a bit distracted lately. Are you happy working at JojaMart, Sam?”

Sam accidentally lets a laugh slip out of his mouth, but he quickly recovers by clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m thrilled to be here.” 

Morris smiles. “That’s great to hear because I think you have the potential of building a fruitful career with us.” 

The thought of that makes Sam want to vomit all over the trippy charcoal carpet, but he maintains his composure and forces himself to smile back at Morris. “Cool.”

“Now, what do you need from me? How can I help you thrive at Joja?” 

“Uh,” Sam pauses to dig around in his brain for an appropriate answer, but fails to find one because the last thing he wants is to thrive at Joja.

“You don’t have to tell me now.” Morris opens a desk drawer and pulls out a single sheet of paper. He hands it to Sam, the words ‘Annual Performance Evaluation - Self Assessment’ are typed in bold at the top. “We can discuss it more during your performance review next week.” 

Sam gives Morris a weak smile and rises from his chair. He looks over the sheet of paper as he leaves the office and fantasizes about how good it would feel to light it on fire, or rip it to shreds. 

Shane’s fumbling around in his locker when Sam gets to the backroom. He’s already changed out of his work attire and into regular people clothes—green shirt, jeans, hoodie. When Sam first started working at JojaMart, he assumed his co-worker changed at work because of his tradition of dropping by the saloon on his way home. But he now understands it’s because Shane doesn’t want to wear his shame for longer than necessary. 

“What did Morris want?” He asks while watching Sam open his locker.

“Oh, you know, just checking in. Wanting to know how he can help me thrive at Joja.” 

“Oof,” is all Shane says before starting out the backroom. 

Sam watches him leave and wonders how long it’ll be until this place morphs him into his own version of Shane. 

  
  


Sam admires the colors of the sunset as he begins his trek home. The sky looks like a burst of orange and fuschia, and he thinks that this is his favorite thing about summer. Everything, even the sky, looks a little bit more alive. He stops at the bridge leading into town and watches the fish weave through the water, trying their best to move against the stubborn stream. 

_Same here, buddy_ , he thinks as he carries on his way. 

Sam spots her just as he reaches the other side of the bridge. She’s curled up against one of the trees next to the Mullner’s house with her nose buried deep in a book. It’s a small paperback. The cover’s curled over on itself so he can’t make out what she’s reading, but it looks old. The edges of the pages are so aged with yellow they almost look stained. Well loved, he knows she’d say. He looks down the path leading towards the general store and spontaneously decides to take a slight detour. 

Penny doesn’t look up until he’s standing right in front of her. She smiles softly as she sets her book down beside her. “Hey, you just get off work?”

Sam immediately regrets his decision when their eyes meet, but stands his ground. “Yep.” 

There’s a long awkward pause between them. Penny uncomfortably shifts in her spot and pulls her cream colored cardigan more snuggly around her shoulders. Sam looks down and digs the toe of his shoe into the dirt. 

A few seconds pass and Sam decides to break the silence first. “So, uh, how are you?”

“Good. And you?”

He thinks about the girl he hooked up with a few nights ago and wonders what Penny’s reaction would be if he told her about it, wonders if it’d taint her view of him, or make her jealous. Sam shakes the thought away when he realizes she probably wouldn’t care. She’s already moved on anyways. The memory of seeing her hand wrapped around the arm of another guy at the Flower Dance still stings a little. 

“Same old same old.” 

Penny simply nods. 

“I’m actually thinking about auditioning for this band.” Sam waits for her reaction, but her expression is nothing more than pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh.” Penny straightens a little before tilting her head. “But don’t you already have a band?”

“This is different.” He tries to explain it in a way that’ll make sense to her. “They have this huge following online. I’d have to move to the city, but I’d have a shot at becoming like a real, proper musician.” 

“What about your job? And your family?”

Sam lets out a very audible sigh before he starts to walk away, carefully cutting through the Mullner’s front yard. 

“Sam,” Penny calls after him. He can hear her footsteps rustling in the grass behind him. “I’m sorry. I am excited for you, I just—”

He turns around to interrupt her. “Are you though?”

She curls a stray strand of hair behind her ear and slightly frowns. “Of course I am. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. Like why throw away all your responsibilities for music when you can still play it here?” 

“Responsibilities? I work at a fucking grocery store, Penny.” 

“So? Plenty of people work everyday jobs to support their families.” 

Sam sighs again, realizing they’re having the exact same argument they’ve had a dozen times. Penny had always daydreamed about their future together. She had it all figured out before they even graduated high school—the type of house they’d live in, the flower arrangements they'd have at their wedding, how many kids they’d have. Most teenage guys would’ve been freaked out by it, but Sam was in love with her and was certain he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He was just unsure about everything else. He knew he wasn't smart like Sebastian, or fearless like Abigail. He was just Sam, and the only thing Sam had was music. He always figured he could find a way to do something with it. That was, at least, before the obligations of adulthood decided to beat the shit out of him. Time went on, dreams changed. And the life him and Penny had dreamt about slowly started to feel further and further away from what he really wanted. They’d tried to work it out so many times, but they could never reach a consensus. One of them was always doomed to be unhappy. 

“You know that’s not the kind of life I want.” Sam feels guilty saying it because a part of him wishes he still wanted the same life as her. It kills him that after all this time, he’s the biggest source of her unhappiness. 

“Yeah, I’m well aware.” Penny hugs her arms close to her body. Her eyes look sad, defeated. She walks back to her spot under the tree to pick up her book, and turns her head to look at him one last time before heading towards her trailer. 

Sam considers following after her, but deep down, he knows it’d be pointless. He’d only end up disappointing her again. Besides, he has a sound clip to record.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Jesse's had his panties in a twist all afternoon and the rest of the band is quite fed up with his mood. Gabe’s scowl is more exaggerated than usual, hovering somewhere between irritation and exhaustion. He's dressed like he either just came from or is about to go to the gym, sporting black sweatpants and a dingy gray T-shirt with a graphic from a band that broke up back in 2011. His trusty shaker bottle rests at his feet like a loyal companion. Paige is staying preoccupied gnawing on three different types of gummy candies—worms, sour bears, and goo filled hearts. The non-anatomical kind. She bobs her head as she chews, causing her oversized feather earrings to swing almost violently from her ears. Harper’s the only one bold enough to call Jesse out on his bullshit. She’s seated across from him at the dining room table, feet kicked up to rest on the oak surface. Jesse glares at her dirty high tops, but doesn’t dare say a single word about them. 

“You need to bring them in,” she firmly tells him. “Not just have them send in a clip recorded on shitty audio equipment.”

“And what?” he counters. “Risk exposing ourselves?”

Harper rolls her eyes. She understands the consequences that come with the possibility of exposure, but she doesn’t know what other option they have. They’re just wasting time. 

“Okay, screen them again. _Then_ bring them in so we can hear them properly.”

Jesse slumps in his chair and groans like a child being asked to finish their vegetables. His frustration is sort of amusing to Harper in a karmic kind of way since it was originally his idea to use the band as a way to fulfill some ridiculous masked ninja wet dream. Now, ironically enough, he’s the one that’s jeopardizing the band’s integrity because he won the carpal tunnel lottery. 

“What if we video chat them or something?” Gabe says from his spot on the couch. 

“It’d just be delaying the inevitable,” Paige chimes in from where she’s now sprawled out on the living room floor. Her auburn hair projects off her head like a rogue flame. 

“Exactly,” Harper agrees. “Or we go on a hiatus while your wrists heal. Take your pick.”

Jesse shakes his head. “It could take months.”

“So will finding another guitarist at this rate.” Harper doesn’t say it out of spite. She honestly believes cloning him with stronger wrists might be easier than finding a stand-in at this point. 

Jesse clasps his hands behind his head and smirks at her. 

“Don't fucking look at me like that.”

“You should honestly be the band's leader.” He smiles wider, tongue briefly flicking over his lip ring. “Can we trade? You’ll learn my riffs, and I'll get my own frilly wig and sing like an angel.”

Harper lowers her feet from the table to forcibly kick him in the shin. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Ow, okay. Jeez.” Jesse whines as he reaches down to rub his leg. “You know how important this band is to me.”

“It's important to all of us, Jesse.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one letting everyone down because my wrists are fucked.”

His phone lights up from it’s spot on the table and Harper quickly spots ‘April’ flash across the screen. Above the name is a picture of a brunette woman smiling while cradling a gray cat that looks completely disinterested with life. Jesse sighs before he lifts the phone to his ear and says, “Hey." He angles his face away from Harper, and the thin silver band on his ring finger stares at her. She quickly looks away, then rises from her seat to walk over to the living room window, crossing her arms over her chest. The sky is the most perfect shade of baby blue and the way the sun shines through the sheen of clouds is ever so inviting. She wishes she could be outside reveling in the feeling of the sun on her skin instead of being trapped inside bickering with a twenty-nine year old man that might as well be twelve.

“So what’s the deal?” Gabe asks her before taking a swig from his shaker bottle. The contents look unappetizing and kind of murky. “Are we basically screwed?”

“Not yet.” Harper continues to stare out the window. She shifts her gaze to the pedestrians wandering the streets, the cars driving by. “But we will be if we don't figure out something soon."

“How many people submitted clips?” Paige mumbles around a mouth full of gummies. 

“Hundreds.”

“And how many did Jesse like?” 

Harper sighs. “Technically none.”

Harper spent the majority of her week meticulously going through all the submissions with Jesse, organizing them into categories to make things easier. After countless hours listening to hundreds of iterations of their songs as well as a few original pieces, there were a whole lot of no’s, a few maybe’s, and only one yes: Samson Blake. Harper was barely able to get a glimpse of the profile attached to his submission before Jesse snatched his laptop out of her hands, but he seemed like a genuine musician and not just another crazed fan trying to use it as an excuse to meet the band. He was also the closest match to Jesse's energy, even had an interesting flair to his playing that caught Harper’s attention. Naturally, Jesse hated him. 

“He sounds cocky,” he’d said, trying to convince her to move him to the maybe’s. 

“He sounds _talented_ ,” she’d argued. 

But Harper knew the band couldn’t rely on just one good submission, so she forced Jesse to go back through the maybe’s and promote some to yes. He ended up selecting a few more, but complained about it the entire time. Said what they’d submitted wasn't enough; he needed more material. That was when Harper decided to put her foot down and tell him to bring them in instead, which she knew he wouldn’t like one bit. 

“What are we going to do if we can’t find someone?” Paige asks before tossing a red gummy bear into the air, catching it in her mouth. 

Harper sighs again. She knows the only other option would be a hiatus, even though it could be detrimental. They’d have to cancel their entire lineup of shows for the rest of the summer, maybe even the fall depending on the length of Jesse’s healing process. Harper turns away from the window and shakes her head, she won’t let it come to that. The world didn’t revolve around Jesse’s feeble wrists; the band could function without him. 

“We’ll find someone,” she assures them. But from their expressions, her bandmates don’t seem convinced. 

  
  


Harper’s on the verge of abandoning all hope. The first two auditions were disappointing to say the least. Neither sounded remotely close to their sound clips and consistently fumbled over Jesse’s guitar breakdowns. She wanted to argue it was due to their nerves, that the band should give them another chance, but knew their performances were only foreboding of a potential on-stage fuck up. The next was a huge fan of the band that gave off such immense cringe energy it left even Paige uneasy. And the one after that never showed. They have one audition left, but Harper’s feeling more pessimistic than usual, and the way Jesse keeps glancing at her over the top of Paige’s head is only magnifying her frustrations. She really wants to flip him off, maybe even smack the satisfied ‘I told you so’ smile off his face, but she can’t quite find the energy. 

_Stupid Zorro-mask-wearing-idiot_ , she thinks as she slumps back in her seat with a sigh. 

“Butterscotch?” Paige mumbles, shoving a bag of golden hard candies in Harper’s face. They smell like syrupy plastic. She shakes her head and Paige shrugs before reaching in for another. The bangles on her wrist jingle as she wrestles to get her hand in the bag. 

Gabe’s in his spot in front of the mixer, staring off into what appears to be some existential void. Harper wants to ask for his input since he’s usually the more sane member of the band, but she’s not sure if she can handle his blunt discontent. She knows the situation isn’t anyone’s fault but there’s still a dull-edged blade of guilt poking her in the side. Jesse’s been hounding her about brushing up her guitar skills for a year now, and if she’d listened to him, she might’ve been able to save them the trouble of all this. 

Harper lazily peels herself out of her seat and stretches her arms overhead before starting for the door.

“Where are you going?” Jesse sneers from his spot in the corner, watching her like a hawk. 

Harper looks at him from over her shoulder, but doesn’t respond. She’s done playing pretend for right now and needs some air. 

  
  


The parking lot outside the studio has an eerie peacefulness to it. The place is located in the old industrial district, the Westside Yards, which now mostly houses tech startups and renovated loft apartments. It’s after five o’clock so all the techies are gone for the day, leaving just a serene desertedness that’s almost comforting in a way. It kind of makes Harper feel like the last person left on Earth. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, centering herself as she listens to the world around her. A seagull squawks overhead and when she tilts her chin to look, her eyes are greeted with a shy sliver of skyline. 

The faint sound of music in the distance catches her attention. Harper doesn’t think much about it, assumes it’s probably coming from the apartments down the block, but then she realizes it’s getting louder. Closer. She turns her head to look down the street just as a forest green sedan roars by, almost missing the parking lot before deciding to turn in. The driver is blasting a song from a pop-punk band Harper doesn’t recognize, but it’s loud and upbeat in this catchy-yet-sickening sort of way. She watches them pull in to park and start to erratically nod to the music, hitting the steering wheel to the beat. Harper arches a brow, then moves closer.

The driver’s a blond guy around her age, wearing a deep burgundy T-shirt under a faded denim jacket with what looks like a pizza pin fastened on the collar. With how enthusiastically he’s moving his head, it’s difficult for Harper to get a glimpse of his face, but she stares anyway. Partly curious, partly concerned. He takes a brief pause right before the chorus to run a hand through his hair, and Harper draws in a sharp breath. She can’t remember his name, but she knows him. She looks him over again, trying to jog her memory, and realizes she’s hooked up with him. _Red Shirt_ , she remembers as she approaches the driver’s side door and leans down, waiting for him to notice her. From this close she can see that the pin on his jacket says, In pizza we crust. 

He’s halfway through belting out the chorus when he spots her, jolting in his seat. “Holy shit!”

Harper doesn’t blink an eye. Just waits for him to turn down the music then asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, have an audition.” 

Harper can’t help but laugh. She shakes her head. “No you don’t.”

“Uh, I do.” He looks confused, but Harper’s not buying it. 

“Who put you up to this?” She narrows her eyes as she leans in closer, bracing her hand above the driver’s door. “Did Jesse like pay you or some shit?”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. Her patience is currently non-existent. “Who told you about the audition?”

His face is still blank. “Uh.” He touches his hair again. “My friend Lila said she…” 

His words trail off, but Harper doesn’t need to hear the rest. She straightens and is suddenly overwhelmed with lightheadedness, chest pain, and the urge to vomit. _Lila_. Harper attempts to connect the dots, tries to figure out the connection between this guy and her best friend when she finally remembers his name is Sam. The realization that Samson Blake is their next audition quickly follows, and all the pieces fall into place to reveal the completed picture of Harper’s utter stupidity. 

_Would it be weird if I told Sebastian’s friend Sam to submit something?_ Her friend had said during one of their weekly phone calls three weeks ago. Harper had spent an entire hour complaining about how annoying it was going to be to try and find a stand-in guitarist, and Lila, being the wonderful friend she is, found a way to save her ass. It was brilliant, not weird at all. Except Harper had forgotten about the entire conversation and apparently somehow managed to make things extremely weird because not only was her best friend’s boyfriend’s friend here to audition for her band, but he also stuck his dick in her in the bathroom of a bar almost two weeks ago.

Harper’s certain she’s going to die here in this parking lot. Just shrivel up. Maybe spontaneously combust. She needs to sit down. She takes a deep breath and shuffles backward until her feet connect with the curb, plopping down onto the concrete with a small yelp. “This is not happening.”

She hears the click of a car door and then Sam appears in front of her, leaning down and watching her with concern in his eyes. “Hey, are you okay?” 

She looks up at him and just stares for a moment. “You’re Sebastian’s Sam.”

He pulls back a little. “Uh, how do you—”

“I went to college with Lila.” She watches his eyes widen in surprise, or maybe horror. “We were roommates.” 

“Oh shit, you’re Harper.”

She nods. “Unfortunately.” 

“Woah.” Sam touches his hair again. Blinks a few times. “This is weird.”

Harper sort of sighs, sort of laughs. “Yeah, well, buckle up because it’s about to get like ten thousand times more weird.” 

Harper’s heartbeat pounds in tune with her footsteps as she walks down the hall. Sam’s following behind her with his guitar case, whistling to what sounds like one of the band’s old songs “Vermillion Waves.” She glances at him from over her shoulder. He smiles. 

“I guess I’m not very lucky,” he says when she turns back around. 

Harper stops in front of the door to the studio and looks at him again. He’s still fucking smiling. “What?”

“You said if I was lucky I’d never see you again, but here I am.” He lets out a laugh, sways a little on his feet. “Or maybe I’m so unlucky that it cancelled itself out and made me accidentally lucky.” He looks down at the floor, thinking. “I think that’s how it works.” 

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Life has an odd sense of humor, doesn’t it?” 

They both go quiet. Harper crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Listen,” Sam says as he rubs at his neck, eyes still glued to the floor. “I could just go. You seem like really weirded out, which is a normal reaction considering...” 

“No!” Harper says a bit louder than she means to. She clears her throat. “I mean, this is all pretty weird, but I listened to the clips you submitted and you’re really good. The people waiting on the other side of this door should hear you play.” 

His entire face lights up, even his green eyes gleam like they’re fucking smiling. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Harper nods before reaching for the doorknob behind her, hoping she isn’t about to make a huge mistake. 

The rest of the band practically jumps out of their seats when Harper opens the door, then collectively gasps when they notice Sam follow in right after her. 

“Harper, what the—” Jesse starts, but she raises a hand to interrupt him. 

“It’s cool,” she tells them as she looks around the room. “We apparently already know each other.” 

The strangest expression forms on both Jesse and Gabe’s faces. They quickly look to each other, then back to Harper. Paige is too busy sucking on butterscotch candies to care. Harper returns to her seat to wait for Sam to set up, avoiding any and all eye contact with her bandmates. She sighs when she sits down. She’s still feeling a little woozy, like she might be dreaming. 

Jesse scoots his chair closer and leans past Paige to get Harper’s attention. “What the fuck is going on?” 

Harper stares straight ahead. “Turns out he’s a friend of a friend.” 

“Seems a bit coincidental, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Jesse, I undermined you and planned this entire thing. I’ve been obsessing over the big reveal for weeks. Surprise.” 

Gabe clears his throat, and Harper slightly tilts her head to the left. “This is the guy you liked, right?” 

She nods. “Yeah.” 

“Do you think he’s a good fit?”

“I hope so,” Harper says, watching Sam plug his guitar into an amp. She’s not surprised to see that his choice of instrument is kind of flashy, but also really pretty. The body is a beautiful royal blue color with gold hardware and a dark wood fingerboard. It’s funny how well it suits him. 

“So,” Jesse finally says. Everyone turns their attention to where he’s seated in the corner near Paige’s drum kit and waits for him to continue, but he just glares at Sam. 

Sam fidgets with his guitar. “Uh, I’m Sam.”

Paige giggles to herself. Jesse shoots her a look before saying, “Well, Sam, what have you prepared to play for us?”

“Uh.” Sam nervously glances over them before turning to Harper. “What’s your favorite song?”

Her eyes go wide. Heat rushes to her face. 

Jesse looks between them. “Just play what you prepared.” 

Harper can sense Jesse’s growing impatience, but Sam continues to stare at her like they’re the only ones in the room. She bites the inside of her lip as she shifts in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

Paige laughs again, but Sam just smiles before looking down to position his hands on the guitar. He does a test strum, then starts to play a very exaggerated version of the lullaby. A stubborn smile pokes at the corner of her mouth as Harper watches, and when Sam looks up at her once he’s finished, she can’t bring herself to meet his eyes. 

“Absolutely adorable,” Jesse says, completely deadpan. “Now play an actual song.”

“Okay.” Sam turns to him, pausing for a moment. “I’ll play whatever you think is the hardest.”

Jesse scrunches his nose. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well I’m assuming you’re Ares, the guitarist, which means you know which song is the most difficult to play.” 

Jesse doesn’t say a single word, just scowls like a fussy toddler. Harper chuckles to herself. Maybe he was right; Sam is a little cocky, but it’s entertaining to watch Jesse get all frustrated.

“It took you weeks to nail the chords in “Broken Sun,” Gabe breaks the silence. Jesse flares his nostrils. 

“Okay, I’ll play that.” Sam grins. “Can you just play the beginning to refresh my memory?” 

“Gladly,” Jesse says through gritted teeth. He nods over to Gabe, who quickly turns to the computer to pull up the song. 

Sam stares off as he listens, slightly nodding his head along to the music. After a moment, he gets into position and starts to play. He’s so concentrated that it almost looks like he’s in a trance, yet manages to not miss a single note. Harper holds her breath as he approaches Jesse’s solo, but catches that same pure excitement she first noticed at the bar flash in his eyes. She leans forward in her seat. His fingers practically glide over the strings with such ease it makes even Jesse look like an amateur. Her eyes can barely keep up. The fluidity in how he moves along the guitar is almost inhuman. 

“Damn,” Gabe says under his breath. 

“Wow,” Paige laughs in disbelief. “Can we just keep him forever?” 

Harper smiles as she leans back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. She glances over at Jesse, but can’t tell if the look on his face is a result of shock or rage. 

“That was good,” he says when Sam’s done, his face now completely expressionless.

“Pretty sure that was better than good, dude,” Gabe responds. 

“Yeah,” Paige adds. “Like so good that I’m not sure if we’ll even want you back.” 

Harper’s smile grows so wide her face starts to hurt. Her heart is racing. She’s so relieved she could honestly run up there and hug Sam, but decides against it because she figures that would be really, really weird. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a weird, experimental thing I wanted to try out instead of info dumping a bunch of stuff. These will pop up every so often, but mostly as reactions to certain plot points :)

**ECHOES FROM THE UNDERGROUND**

/bands/theheadsofcerberus

ABOUT THE BAND | COMMUNITY RULES | ARCHIVE | CONTACT

Sorted by: Top Posts

* * *

**NEWS: Guitarist submissions are officially CLOSED**

posted by breakdownbabe _Today_

The Heads of Cerberus closed submissions on their website this morning. Does this mean they've found a guitarist? If so, that was quick. I know everyone has mixed feelings about the subject, but I honestly can’t wait to meet the new member of the band. Sign up for our newsletter to be immediately notified about any news! xx

* * *

**DISCUSSION: Meaning behind Nyx’s last post**

posted by riffdweller _2 days ago_

Our favorite lively drummer made an ambiguous post on her social media account last night, but was quick to delete shortly after posting. I’ve included the screenshot below, but the post said, “The moon likes boys that play songs about stars.” Could this be hinting at a new song? Maybe the album we’ve been impatiently waiting for? Leaking something does seem a bit odd while searching for a guitarist… And as far as we know, none of the other members interacted with the post before it was deleted. 

Read More

* * *

**DISCUSSION: Hiatus Theory**

posted by suckadisc _10 days ago_

I’ve been discussing a few things with @riffdweller and @breakdownbabe about the guitarist auditions and we randomly thought of something: What if this relates back to that hiatus the band took two years ago? 

Some of you might remember that this isn’t the first time The Heads of Cerberus unexpectedly postponed all of their shows without a proper explanation. They pulled something similar two years ago, except at a much larger scale. Everything—their shows, release schedule, social media—was put on hold. Mayari and Ares even completely vanished off their personal accounts for an entire month, causing a lot of rumors to surface about the band potentially breaking up. 

A fellow blogger (@selftitled) wrote a post featuring a tip they received from one of their connections in the music scene. Their contact had blamed the whole ordeal on the fact that Mayari and Ares couldn’t stand working together. (Post linked here)

While unfortunate if true, it makes sense. Ever since Mayari joined the band four years ago, the original fan base has been more and more vocal about how the band isn't the same anymore. I imagine that’s also the case backstage. It must be hard for the three original members to watch their vocalist get all the attention, but they honestly wouldn’t be nearly as popular without her. Their song "Silver Light", which debuted Mayari as their new lead vocalist, doubled their monthly listeners in less than three weeks, and the numbers haven't slowed since. But at one point does it all become too much, and what does that say about the band's future?

Read More

* * *

**QUESTION: If you could meet the band, what is /one/ thing you'd ask them?**

posted by breakdownbabe _16 days ago_

All this talk of auditions has me thinking about what I'd want to ask the band if I had the chance to meet them. Personally, I would cut to the chase and ask Mayari to marry me because my gay heart is weak for that voice... /swoon/ What about you? Xx

* * *

**NEWS: Guitarist submissions are now OPEN**

posted by breakdownbabe _23 days ago_

Despite the overwhelming amount of backlash on their social media accounts, THoC have officially opened their submissions on their website (linked here). If only I knew how to play guitar… /sigh/ Are any of you submitting clips? If so, goodluck! xx

* * *

**NEWS: The Heads of Cerberus are on the hunt for a guitarist**

posted by suckadisc _1 month ago_

Less than a week after postponing their show at The Pavillion, The Heads of Cerberus have announced via social media that they’re searching for a guitarist. Whether or not this is related to their postponed show is unclear. Do you think they’re expanding the band, or is this a permanent replacement? To all my Ares fans: How do you feel about this news? Will you continue to support if he leaves? 

* * *

**NEWS: Show at The Pavilion POSTPONED**

posted by riffdweller _1 month ago_

The Heads of Cerberus show that was scheduled for next Friday at The Pavilion has been postponed until further notice. The band has yet to release an explanation for the sudden delay. Read the announcement on their social media page (here). 

* * *

**QUESTION: To unmask, or not to unmask?**

posted by suckadisc _2 months ago_

The comments were getting heated on @riffdweller’s Bloodoath analysis, so we decided to move the discussion to this post. Leave your response below—Do you think it’s time THoC unmasked themselves? 

Reminder: Please be respectful in the comments as violators will be blocked. 

* * *

**DISCUSSION: Bloodoath video analysis**

posted by riffdweller _2 months ago_

I'll be honest with y'all, I did not know what to expect going into this video. The last two releases were unfortunate flops for me, and even though I was hyped after watching the clips they leaked on their social media last week, I still felt a bit skeptical due to the whole [redacted] nightmare. But holy shit, this _killed_ me. Everything about this video is absolutely beautiful. It’s very different compared to their other videos, but in the best way possible. Plus Mayari’s vocals are just so damn good. If this is any indication of what their next album will be like… They can take _all_ my money. But before I dive deeper into the analysis, can we all agree they should just unmask themselves already? It has been six years...

Read more 

* * *

**NEWS: The music video for Bloodoath is out NOW!!!**

posted by breakdownbabe _2 months ago_

Filming a reaction video with @suckadisc and @riffdweller tonight! Hoping to have it up on our video channel (linked here) sometime tomorrow, along with an analysis post soon! xx

* * *

Next Page >

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope this made sense lol
> 
> The next chapter will be an actual chapter...


	5. Chapter 5

Morris hasn’t stopped talking for eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds. Sam’s been keeping track, watching the clock on the wall above his boss’s head tick away at a torturous pace. His shift technically ended thirteen minutes ago, but he’d devised a plan to dip out a few minutes early so he could hit the road and actually make it to band practice on time. Shane even agreed to cover for him. It was perfect, and everything was going smoothly until Morris caught him before he could bolt out the door, wanting to discuss his performance evaluation. 

Sam stopped paying attention a while ago, but he’s been nodding every so often to make Morris believe he’s listening to whatever the man’s blabbering about. Feedback. Progress. Goal setting. His mind is more focused on trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to make it to the studio in less than forty-five minutes when it usually takes an hour to get there from this part of town. That’s not including traffic or construction or anything else that could potentially cause a delay. Sam isn’t the best at math, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he is so completely screwed. Harper is surely going to kill him if he’s late again, but there’s no way he can make it there on time unless some miraculous force grants him superpowers. Assuming his superpower would be something useful and not like the ability to communicate with squirrels. Sam humors the thought. Maybe he could use his powers to command an army of squirrels to—

Morris very audibly clears his throat and Sam quickly shifts his gaze away from the clock. A nervous smile pulls on the corners of his mouth as he waits for his boss to start talking, but the man continues to stare at him with hard eyes. It’s then Sam realizes he’s probably been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” he says, shifting in his seat. “Could you repeat that?” 

Morris purses his lips then looks down at the sheet in his hands. It’s creased all over from being folded and unfolded numerous times, and one of the corners is ripped. “I believe my greatest contribution to JojaMart is my personality.” He looks up at Sam over the rim of his glasses. “Could you elaborate on that for me, Sam?”

Sam rubs at his neck. He didn’t exactly put much thought into his self-assessment responses because he didn’t think anyone would actually read it. He assumed it was just a formality and they would all get collected and thrown into a drawer somewhere. Hell, he left half of them blank because some of the questions were painfully depressing to think about. 

_ What has been your greatest accomplishment over this past review period? _

Sam was tempted to scribble “surviving” into the blank space but didn’t want to deal with the potential consequences. Plus, that sorta sounded like something Sebastian would say. So he skipped it. 

_ One of my primary goals for the next performance review period is…  _

The obvious answer was: to not be here. Did he write that? Absolutely not. 

_ One of the skills I need to develop further is… _

Sam couldn’t think of a good response for that one either, but reflecting now, he probably should’ve written down time management.

“Uh, I just think my personality really helps with Joja’s mission.” 

Morris’s ears perk at that. He leans a bit closer, resting his forearms against the desk, sheet still between his fingers. “How so?”

_ Shit. _

“My, uh,” Sam hesitates, bouncing his right leg. He looks down at the carpet in front of him, but the zigzag pattern starts to make him feel sick. “My energy really helps get things done.”

“Oh, so you think your enthusiasm helps motivate the team?”

Sam thinks for a moment, then nods. The tension lifts from his shoulders. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. I’m just not very good at... assessing myself.” 

Morris looks up from the sheet, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh?”

His leg starts to bounce again. “I mean, I guess one of my goals for this next performance period is to be more…” He pauses, trying to think of the right word. “Assessing... of myself.” 

“Yes, I think that is a splendid idea.” Morris smiles, reaching across his desk for a pen. “I shall make a note of that.” 

Sam leans back in his seat and lets out a sigh of relief. 

  
  


As suspected, all lanes of the interstate are backed up for miles. Bumper to fucking bumper. Sam’s trying to keep his mind distracted from the fact that he’s super late by listening to music. Harper sent him at least a dozen of the band’s songs along with their tabs for him to memorize so he’s been playing them on repeat for the last two weeks, paying close attention to the guitar parts. Except Harper’s voice keeps diverting his attention, and listening to her sing makes a weird feeling twinge in his stomach. He’s not really sure why. 

Panic washes over him when his phone loudly vibrates from the center console. Sam grimaces, knowing it’s most likely Harper asking where he is, but he sneaks a peek anyway, heart beating just a bit faster when he sees her name. He swipes the notification away and stares off at the line of cars ahead of him. The apartments in the city are too expensive for him to get approved by himself and the thought of having some random person as a roommate is unappealing to say the least. He really should’ve thought all this through before impulsively submitting that sound clip. The initial excitement of it all felt amazing, but now he just feels like he’s letting everyone down because he can’t properly manage everything. 

Sam thinks back to his performance evaluation.  _ What has been your greatest accomplishment over this past review period?  _ Ignoring the context of his pathetic low wage job, what  _ has _ he accomplished this past year? He still lives at home. He wrote a few songs the world will probably never hear. He and Penny broke up yet again, but this time it was for good. It just feels like another year wasted. 

His phone vibrates again. Sam stares at it for a moment, then gathers the courage to look at it. 

Harper: Where the hell are you

Harper: ? 

The lone question mark has an impatience to it that makes Sam flinch. He takes a deep breath then starts to type. 

Sam: Sorry

Sam: Stuck in traffic

He can practically feel the severity of Harper’s eye roll on the other end, so he adds a frowning emoji in hopes to lighten the mood. Dread races up his spine when those three little dots appear on his screen. His eyes widen as he watches them blink, but the dots quickly vanish. Sam continues to stare at his phone, waiting for them to reappear, but they don’t, and the lack of a response stings worse than any angry text ever could. 

  
  


Harper and Jesse are standing outside when Sam finally pulls up to the studio. They’re talking, or maybe arguing. He can’t exactly tell from where he’s parked, but he does notice Harper’s mouth pressed to a line, her arms crossed over her chest. Jesse’s doing that annoying thing where he talks with his hands, his head cocked to one side. He leans in closer to Harper and she averts her eyes, shaking her head. She looks more upset than angry, shoulders slightly slumped forward. Sam lets out a heavy sigh before cutting the engine. He really hopes they’re not talking about him. 

They both look up when he breaches their line of sight. The sudden attention makes Sam stop in place, clutching the handle of his guitar case just a bit tighter. 

“Well look who finally decided to show,” Jesse says, mouth curving up into a sly smile. He shoots Harper a discerning look then chuckles to himself before turning to walk away. “Make sure you send me that shit I mentioned.” 

“Yep,” Harper says flatly, arms still crossed over her chest. 

Jesse turns back to them before ducking into his Jeep. “You’re the best, Harpy.” 

She smiles at him, then mutters something that sounds very close to the word  _ dick _ under her breath. Sam laughs at that and when he looks up, he realizes Harper’s staring at him. She purses her lips as she looks him over, the sternness in her eyes making guilt settle deep in his stomach. He opens his mouth to apologize, but she turns away and heads back inside before he can say a single word. 

  
  
  


It’s been two weeks since Sam joined The Heads of Cerberus, and these are the observations he’s managed to make during their practices so far: 

Jesse is a control freak with a slight god complex. He’s not around much, but when he is, there’s an unusual tension amongst the other band members. Sam’s been meaning to ask, but he doesn’t want to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong or get on Jesse’s bad side. 

Paige is a fiery redhead that always has a bag of candy in her hand. She’s basically a ball of sugar-induced energy and lacks any sort of mental filter while speaking, but she is absolutely insane on drums so maybe all that sugar is put to good use. 

Gabe is a gym bro that consistently looks like he’s in some sort of discomfort or pain, like he never properly learned how to move the muscles of his face. He’s the bassist, but also does a lot of post-production work. He tends to keep to himself, doesn’t talk much, and will never approach you first. 

And then there’s Harper. Sam doesn’t even know where to begin with Harper. She’s cold and aloof and has an attitude. And she’s easily the prettiest girl he's ever laid eyes on, which makes him feel really shitty about himself because he would've said the same thing about Penny two months ago. But Harper’s hot, like scary hot. So ridiculously hot that the ground beneath her feet threatens to turn molten. He completely understands what she meant when she said she'd eat him alive, and yet he can't help but feel drawn to her anyway. Maybe it’s the fact that neither of them has acknowledged that night at the bar ever happened, but Sam can’t stop thinking about it. He'd almost forgotten all about it, filed it away under shit he did to prove he was over Penny. Except now, the memories of that night are quite literally being dangled right before his eyes, and it doesn't help that Harper’s wearing the tiniest tank top and shorts to ever exist. 

Sam glances at her from across the room while he takes his guitar out of its case. She’s hunched over helping Gabe mic Paige’s drum kit per Jesse’s request, her pink hair gathered over one shoulder. Gabe says something to her and she peers up, the ghost of a smile making its way across her face. A strange warm feeling floods his chest when she stands up, the hem of her top hiking up to expose the smallest sliver of skin. The warmth spreads as Sam watches her pull her hair up into a bun, eyes drifting to the tattoo between her shoulder blades. It’s of a dagger piercing through a rose with a drop of blood dripping off the tip. When she turns toward him, his eyes trace over her collarbone, up the column of her throat to her jaw. For a moment, every detail from that night at the bar comes rushing back and he can practically taste the salt of her skin, can smell the sweet scent of her hair and—

“Want some?” says a voice from beside him. Sam nearly jumps out of his skin. 

Paige playfully smiles up at him, hand outstretched, and offering him whatever candy she’s eating today. Sam clears his throat as he reaches into the bag to take a piece. She intently watches as he unwraps the candy and pops it into his mouth, wrinkling his nose when the sourness bites the inside of his cheek. 

“Oops,” Paige laughs, grinning wider. “I probably should’ve mentioned they’re sour.” 

Sam gives her a meek smile then looks back to where Harper is now kneeling beside Paige’s kit, rummaging through a bag. Paige looks between them then laughs again. 

“Well isn’t that interesting,” she says before heading over to where Gabe is now sitting in front of the mixer. 

Sam knows it’s a stupid idea, but he sets his guitar down and crosses the room anyway, his pulse getting progressively louder with each step he takes. Harper looks him over when he stops in front of her and the laser focus in her eyes makes that unwanted warm feeling spread to a lower region of his body. Sam swallows, shifting on his feet. “Uh, I want to talk to you.”

Harper arches a brow. “Isn't that what you're doing?” 

“Yeah. I... I mean—” Sam stammers when she meets his eyes through her lashes. She's waiting for him to finish his thought but he can't even remember what he was trying to say, his mind now preoccupied with how her eyes are rich like soil after a rainstorm, deep like the shadows of a cavern. “We should, uh, talk about… that night.” 

Harper looks down to zip up her bag, one of her half smiles just barely tugging at the corner of her mouth. Sam's never been an eloquent speaker, but he hasn't felt this flustered since high school.

“There's nothing to talk about,” Harper says as she rises to her feet, reaching down to adjust the hem of her shorts. From this close, Sam can tell she’s not wearing a bra. Not that he’s staring. He’s definitely not staring. “Shit happens.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re pissed at me?”

“Oh, I’m totally pissed at you,” Harper nods. Sam notices a strand of hair fall out of her bun as she moves her head and he has an urge to reach over and push it back in place. He doesn’t though. “This is the third time you’ve been late.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Sam reaches up to rub at his neck. Harper just stares at him, completely unamused. “Like really really sorry. Do you want me to grovel? Because I will.” 

A smile starts to form on her lips, but she bites it back and frowns instead. “I’m being serious, Sam. This isn’t an extracurricular activity or some garage band you play in with your buddies every Tuesday. This is a commitment. And if you really want this, you need to show up and be there for the band.” 

Sam sighs, eyes falling on the floor between them. “Yeah, I know. The commute just sucks and I haven’t been able to find a place in my budget yet. But I’ll keep looking.” When he finally looks up, he notices Harper chewing on the inside of her lip like she’s contemplating saying something. She crosses her arms over her chest and Sam restrains his gaze from drifting past her neck. 

“Okay, here’s the deal,” she says with a huff. “I have a vacant room with your name on it if you’re interested. My old roommate moved out a while ago and I haven’t gotten around to finding another one so you could stay with me.  _ Temporarily _ . If you want.”

Sam swallows the lump in his throat. “Wouldn’t that be super weird?”

Harper shrugs. “Isn’t this already super weird?” She looks him over with an unfamiliar softness in her eyes, then shakes her head before turning to walk away. “Just text me about it later. You need to finish setting up before I kick your ass." 

  
  
  


The last rays of dusk bleed across the sky as Sam turns right onto Main Street. It took him longer than usual to make it back into town so he’s thoroughly exhausted and absolutely dreading waking up for his morning shift at JojaMart tomorrow. He shakes the thought away, preoccupying his mind by tapping his hand against the steering wheel to the song playing in the background. Then, from the corner of his eye, he notices a person with a familiar shade of red hair and cream-colored cardigan walk past the community garden. It’s Penny. 

Sam slows the car to a stop, pulling off to the curb. He hesitates, tapping his finger on the steering wheel before cutting the engine. He apparently hasn’t made enough of a fool of himself today and approaching his ex-girlfriend on her way home is about to be the icing on the cake. He sighs as he gets out of the car, heart thudding erratically in his chest. He slips his keys into his back pocket then lightly jogs toward her, kicking up gravel with each step. 

“Penny!” he calls after her. 

She turns around, eyes wide with surprise, but doesn’t say anything, just fiddles with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Hey, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about the other day,” Sam says a bit out of breath. He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to be a dick.”

“Oh, thanks, but that's not necessary.” Penny shakes her head. She shyly looks down at her feet. “I shouldn't have brought up all the work stuff. I know it bothers you.” She pauses for a moment, biting her lip. “Your mom mentioned the whole band thing, though. Congratulations. You must be really excited.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he nods. “It's honestly kinda surreal. You should go to one of our shows or something.”

Penny wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. It’s not really my scene.”

“You could bring Abby and Sebastian and Lila, or maybe—”

She shakes her head, fingers still fiddling with her sleeve. “I’m really sorry, Sam. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” She pauses again and the sadness in her eyes makes him feel like he’s shrunk down to the size of an ant. “I’m happy for you, but it’s still hard.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” he says even though he has the sudden urge to kick a hole in the fence next to him. 

Penny softly smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I'm proud of you for doing this, though. Just don't forget about this place when you're famous. Pelican Town will always be your home.”

  
  


The first thing Sam spots when he walks through the front door is Vin curled up on the couch with a popsicle. The boy doesn’t even look at him, just continues to watch some cartoon with a jingle that’s surely going to haunt his dreams. He sets his guitar case down and pauses in front of the TV to greet his younger brother, but he just ignores his presence and instinctively angles his head around him. 

“Sam, you’re in the way,” he whines, pouting. 

Sam smiles at him then tousles his reddish-blond hair before making his way into the kitchen. His mom’s in front of the sink washing dishes, her pink apron still tied around her waist. She’s humming to herself, some song his father used to sing to her about fireflies and daisies. He can’t remember exactly how long his father’s been gone this time, but it’s been a few years. He sends a lot of letters and calls when he can, but Sam often wonders if his mom regrets his father’s decision to move them out into the country shortly before getting deployed the first time, before Vin was born and Sam was still a kid, leaving them without really knowing anyone in town. His mom would always wear a smile on her face, but Sam can’t help looking back and imagining how lonely those first few years must’ve been for her. 

“Hey, honey,” his mom says when she finally notices him. She shuts off the faucet then dries her hands on her apron. “How was your day? Do you want me to heat up some leftovers for you?”

Sam shakes his head, opening the fridge. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay,” she says, reaching for a dishtowel off the counter.

He watches her for a moment then stares at the stack of tupperware inside of the fridge. Leftovers don’t exactly sound appealing right now so he moves a few things aside and grabs a cola from the back. He pops the tab then turns back to his mom. She’s humming again. “Hey, Mom.”

“Yes?” She sets the plate in her hand on the counter then reaches for another. 

Sam takes a sip of cola, the carbonation burning his throat. “Are you happy?”

She abruptly stops drying the dish in her hand, narrowing her eyes at him. “Of course I am. What kind of question is that?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Sam shakes his head, taking another swig of soda. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but what Penny said is making him feel a bit restless. 

His mom sets another plate down on the counter. “Is something wrong?” 

Sam doesn’t know how to answer. He downs the rest of his soda then rummages through the fridge. His mom hands him a plate when he sets one of the containers on the counter. He frowns when he realizes it’s fish casserole. Wonderful. 

“Will you and Vin be okay if I move to the city?” he says, grabbing a fork from the dish rack. “I’ll still send you money and everything.” He plates the leftovers. “I just need to be closer to the band.”

His mom studies him, tilting her head. “Of course we’ll be fine, honey. I never expected you to live at home forever.” 

Sam closes the lid and puts the container back in the fridge. “You’re not mad, right?” 

“Why would I be mad?” She shakes her head as she reaches for his plate, placing it in the microwave. “I want you to be happy. Music has always made you happy.” 

Sam nods, tapping his foot against the linoleum. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and starts to type, but finds himself hesitating. He thinks of Penny, then his mom, then his shift at JojaMart, but it’s Harper’s words that ultimately convince him to press send.  _ If you really want this.  _ And he does, he really does. 

Sam: Ok, roomie. I’m in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got carried away with this chapter and decided to split it *shrugs* lol

As it turns out, Harper has no idea how to live with a boy. It’s only been four days since Sam moved in his stuff and her apartment more closely resembles a frat house with each passing day. There is clutter absolutely everywhere—junk mail, half-empty cans of soda, articles of clothing she’s too afraid to contemplate whether they're dirty or clean. Tripping over his damn skateboard on her way to the kitchen has even become a ceremonial part of her morning routine. Harper’s never considered herself a neat person, but this is already getting out of hand and she has no clue what to do about it. 

“Please tell me your secrets,” she pleads with Lila on the phone.

Her friend merely laughs. “Um, the only secret I have is that I’m in love with the guy I live with so unless you plan on—”

“Ha!” Harper interrupts, irritation warming her cheeks. “You’re so funny.” 

“Is it really that bad?”

Harper stares at the chaotic state of her fridge. It’s been overtaken by soda and questionable take-out containers, and all her shit has been moved from its proper place. She closes the fridge with a sigh and opens the freezer. It’s packed with cheap frozen pizzas, the kind that look as appetizing as you’d expect a piece of cardboard sprinkled with cheese would. The least he could do is buy good frozen pizzas. 

“You know what?” she says, slamming the freezer door shut. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” Lila begins. Her voice is calm and delicate, but Harper knows she’s about to say some shit or call her out. “But you kind of did this to yourself.” 

She rolls her eyes and opens the freezer again. “I was just being nice.” She shifts the phone onto her shoulder to move a box of mozzarella sticks out of the way and reaches for a bag of frozen fruit hidden in the back. “He needed a place to stay and I wasn’t going to deal with him being constantly late.”

The line goes silent for a moment. “Harper.”

“What?” she asks, balancing on one foot to pull her blender out of the top cabinet. 

Another pause. “Are you into him?”

Harper almost drops the blender on her head. She shifts the phone back into her hand. “Absolutely not.” 

“It’s okay if you’re into him,” Lila casually says. Harper can practically hear the smile in her friend’s voice. “I mean, you did sleep with him.”

Her shoulders tense. “Shut up.” 

“So you must think he’s at least—”

“Shut the fuck up,” she says through gritted teeth. Her mouth feels unusually dry and she swears she can hear Sebastian laughing in the background. Meanies. 

Harper sighs as she leans back against the kitchen counter and when her eyes land on where Sam’s denim jacket is thrown across the back of the couch, she frowns. She opens her mouth to say something, but a chime in her ear cuts her off. She moves her phone away from her face and notices a text message notification from a very peculiar name. 

Teeth Dude (A): Are we still on for 6? 

Harper stares at her phone, brows knitting tightly together. Teeth Dude A? What in the fuck? Is there a Teeth Dude B? She surely hopes not. She swipes the notification away and immediately opens her notes app. She hastily scrolls through her mess of to-do lists and ramblings, stopping when she finds the date. There’s a long string of asterisks next to it. She’s relieved when she realizes the “A” signifies her sister, Adrienne, but feels a bit queasy when she remembers she agreed to go on a date with one of her older sister’s friends. 

“Shit,” she says louder than she means to. 

“What happened?” Lila’s voice sounds muffled. 

Harper puts the call on speaker and wrinkles her nose at what she’s about to say. “I think I have a date.” 

  
  
  


Teeth Dude’s name is actually Chad and he’s about as interesting as a sock. Not even a patterned sock. A white sock from one of those packs of twelve you'd find at a department store. He’s also a dentist, which makes him commenting on her teeth less weird, but Harper’s still confused about whether it’s a compliment or a creepy sexual innuendo for him wanting to put his fingers in her mouth, which she wouldn’t be completely opposed to if his name was something other than Chad. 

At least he’s more attractive than the last guy her sister tried to set her up with, and if Harper concentrates hard enough, she can look past the fact that he showed up wearing a gray polo. Who shows up to a date wearing a fucking polo? Some questions aren’t meant to be answered, but it’s making Harper feel a bit overdressed in her black dress and heeled booties. She looks around the bar and imagines how weird they must look sitting across from each other. 

Speaking of the bar, it’s a sports bar. With more plasma screen TVs than windows and bros sipping on beer that tastes like piss. Harper feels lightheaded from the rush of memories from her college days when she and Lila would drop by places like this to just fuck around. But back then, it was harmless fun. Now, it feels more like torture. 

At least they’re speeding through the mindless small talk and awkward friendly chatter that consists of sharing information about yourself, but at the same time, not enough to leave a bad first impression. It’s all manipulative bullshit in Harper’s opinion—trying to convince another person to like you just so you can get a dose of all those happy hormones. So many people lose themselves while trying to mold their personalities into something palatable, which is why she’s tired of wasting her time with these guys her sister keeps trying to set her up with.

Harper smiles and nods as she listens to Chad’s spiel about how he knows her sister and saw something cool at the farmer’s market last Sunday. He hasn’t even noticed that she’s barely said a word, but she’s sort of appreciative that she hasn’t needed to. After all, men love listening to themselves talk. She takes a swig of her beer and glances up at the game playing on the TV across the room. She can feel the beginnings of a temporal headache, or maybe her brain is finally starting to melt in her skull, and when the dark-haired waitress makes eye contact with her on her way into the kitchen, Harper contemplates if she should try blinking twice. 

“So Adrienne told me you’re a musician,” Chad says, flashing his pearly whites. 

She’s honestly surprised her sister acknowledged her profession as a musician instead of brushing her off as being a bartender who’s also in a band, but a part of her knows the word choice was meant to show that Harper isn’t a failure, just different. The last thing Adrienne would want is for someone to form a bad impression of her little sister, which would then potentially taint her own image of success. 

Harper nods before taking another sip of beer. “I am.” 

His brown eyes gleam in excitement. He leans in closer, one brow slightly raised. “Have I heard your stuff on the radio? Am I on a date with a celebrity?”

She lets out a nervous laugh. “We’re kind of a big deal online. Not so much the radio.”

“That’s cool,” He nods, finger tapping against the bottle in his hand. “What kind of music do you play?”

Harper sits up straighter, happy to finally have something not so mind-numbing to talk about. “We’re sort of a mesh of progressive and post-hardcore with mostly clean vocals. We’ve been trying to tweak our sound a little, though.” 

“Wow,” he says, appearing a bit taken aback. “Sorry, I just wouldn’t have guessed that. You just seem more into something like, I don’t know, pop music.” 

Harper’s left eye twitches. She slumps back, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something spiteful. “It’s probably the hair.” She nods, forcing her mouth to curve up into a smile. “I’ll be right back. I need to pee.” 

Harper calls Adrienne the moment she steps into the bathroom. She checks herself out in the mirror as the line rings and smoothes a hand over the fabric of her dress. “A complete waste of a cute outfit,” she mumbles to herself as she picks off a piece of lint then reaches up to shake out her hair. 

“Hey, how was it?” her sister answers in her usual cheerful tone. 

Harper leans back against the bathroom sink. “Well, I’m currently calling you from the bathroom, so what does that tell you?”

“Seriously, Harper?”

“Seriously, Adrienne?” she imitates, placing a hand on her hip. “What were you thinking? There’s no possible way things would work out with us.” 

“Just give him a chance. He’s a nice guy.”

Harper groans. “For fuck’s sake, Adrienne. His name is Chad. I feel like I’m in a meme.” 

Adrienne sighs on the other line. “Why are you like this?”

She pushes off the sink and turns around, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is starting to frizz. Lovely. “Why am I like _what_ exactly?”

The line goes quiet. “You haven’t been in an actual relationship in what? Two years?”

“I can’t believe you’re going there right now.” Harper’s chest feels tight. She turns on the faucet and runs her hand under the cold water, then presses her finger tips to her cheeks. 

Adrienne lets out another sigh. “Sorry. Okay, can you at least make up some excuse as to why you have to leave instead of sneaking out the bathroom window?”

Harper looks at herself in the mirror and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want to say another word to Chad, but she’ll make the exception for her sister’s sake, even if she kinda wishes she was an only child right now. “Fine, but you owe me,” she says, then quickly hangs up before Adrienne can say another word.

  
  


Harper isn’t excited about coming home to the apartment smelling of burnt pizza. If anything, it just adds to her lingering headache from dealing with Chad and her sister. Ugh, Chad, that prick. She sighs to herself as she pulls off her black booties and sets them down next to where Sam’s dirty Vans are tossed by the front door. Maybe instead of using precious mental energy, she should just accept the fact that he’s a little messy and move on. Besides, everyone has their vices. It’s not like she’s stuck living with him forever. 

Harper makes her way down the tiny hallway to the kitchen and drops her keys into the dish on the counter. She reaches for her water bottle to take a drink, hoping it’ll help alleviate her headache, and when she turns around, she spots Sam sprawled out on the couch with one of his frozen pizzas sitting on the coffee table. They share a look as she takes a sip of water and the eye contact makes her very aware of the length of her dress. 

“Hey,” Sam nods, sitting up. His hair is a mess with a small section sticking up in a weird direction. 

“Hey,” Harper says, hesitating for a moment. She sets her water bottle down on the counter then crosses the room, carefully taking a seat in the accent chair next to the window. An exaggerated scream from the cheesy horror movie playing in the background fills the silence, and Harper can't remember a time she felt this awkward in her own living room. She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them when her dress starts to hike up. She'd prefer to not draw any more attention to herself, but when she looks over at Sam and finds his eyes glued to the TV, she can't help but feel slightly annoyed. She shakes the thought away and glances down at the pizza on the coffee table. “That has to be the saddest pizza I’ve ever seen,” she says with a laugh. 

Sam briefly looks over at her and shrugs. “Pizza is pizza.” 

“I’d argue that barely counts as a pizza. It doesn’t even have a proper crust.” 

Sam smiles, turning his attention back to the TV. “Didn’t know you were such a pizza connoisseur.” 

Harper bites the inside of her cheek as she looks between him and the coffee table. An idea sparks in her mind and she doesn’t give herself time to consider the consequences before rising to her feet and standing in front of the TV. Sam looks at her, one brow slightly raised. 

“Put your shoes on,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re getting real pizza.”

“Uh, I haven’t gotten my last check from JojaMart yet.” 

“It’s cool.” Harper shrugs. I’ll pay.” Sam gives her a curious look as she walks over to the coat closet to grab her high tops. “Don’t look at me like that. I had a shitty day and just want to get out of the house.” She bends down to slip on her shoes. “So are you coming or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Pt2/Ch7 coming soon ;)


End file.
